You Make Me (11 page)

Maybe somewhere, deep down inside, I wanted to get caught.

To be honest.

But in retrospect, at the time I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I hadn’t deleted them and Ethan was about to get an eyeful. “Don’t,” I said urgently.

Which was the worst thing to say.

And he already was. “Jesus. So he has a matching tattoo. Teen impulse, huh? That’s what you told me. Not that you got a matching tattoo with your quote unquote foster brother. Aka your boyfriend.”

“How was I supposed to tell you that? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

But he was already scrolling back through texts. “He
watches
you? From the street? Caitlyn, what kind of fucking stalker is this guy? That’s crazy!”

In panic, I got defensive. “You’re just trying to turn this back on me. You let some chick crawl all over you and now you have to find something to blame me for.”

“You’re the one who contacted him.” He dropped my phone like it had burned him. Dragging his hands through his hair, he said, “I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to let this go any further. You can’t see him. You need to delete him from your phone.”

There was nothing I despised more than being ordered around. Told what to do. “I can’t do that. I’m not ready to do that.”

“So I’m just supposed to stand back and let you see a guy you admit you were emotionally attached to? I’m understanding, but I’m not that understanding. I can’t do it. I can’t wait for the day one or both of you crosses the line and it goes too far.”

He was right. I knew he was right. But every fiber, cell, nerve in my body screamed in revolt at the idea of losing Heath all over again, without really having had the chance to explore our friendship. “You’re asking me to choose between you and him?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Who is more important to you? Me or him?” Ethan stood there, looking angry and frustrated and beat to hell.

It was an impossible question. How could I explain that Heath was the past and Ethan was the future? That one I had chosen and one had chosen me? That Ethan represented everything I had always craved, but Heath was everything I needed?

But I couldn’t look Ethan in the eye and tell him to go. I couldn’t. I loved him, though in a quieter, less desperate way, and he was a good guy. He wanted to take care of me and give me the life that I’d always wanted.

He was essentially my father’s choice for me as well. It was what he had been telling me that day in the kitchen, after Heath had left. Don’t marry on wild passion and impulse. Wait for the right man. The one who was steady, reliable.

I couldn’t know if Heath and I could work now after all this time. We didn’t really know each other in the same way, had spent time apart, with completely different experiences. What if I left Ethan and Heath and I exploded in a matter of months? We were both so strong-willed and our relationship so passionate it was entirely possible.

There was the heart and there was the head.

With my father’s voice echoing, I chose the head.

“You, Ethan. I want to be with you.”

He made a choked sound in the back of his throat and reached for my hand.

I chose the head, but my heart broke all over again.

I hadn’t thought it was possible to feel so much pain over one person, but while Heath had brought me some of the greatest joy I’d ever experienced, losing him again was like a thousand razor blades climbing up my arms and slashing at me.

Ethan hugged me and I let him.

“I love you,” he murmured. “Caitlyn, I’m sorry to put my foot down like that, but it’s just not healthy for us. Exes can’t be in our lives like that.”

“I know.” My voice was steady but hollow. “But I have to tell him in person. I can’t just disappear without a word. I promise that will be it then. I’ll delete his number.”

He pulled back and looked down at me. “You want me to let you go to him? Are you serious? How can you ask me that?”

But I was firm on it. I couldn’t do that to Heath, not when I had just reached out to him. “If you can ask me to cut him out of my life completely, I can ask you to let me tell him in person. Give me one hour. I’ll be back in exactly an hour.” I turned and sat down on my bed, pulling on my shoes blindly. I felt numb, but determined. “You can wait here for me.”

“Are you going to have sex with him?”

That forced my head up. Anger punched through my fog. “Did you have sex with that girl last night?”

“No.”

“That’s my answer too. No.” Let him think what he wanted. Asshole. “How could you ask me that? Do you really think I’d have you wait here so I can rush off and have a quickie then come back still smelling like him? That’s disgusting. I have never done anything physical with Heath since he showed up here.”

I hadn’t. It didn’t mean that I hadn’t felt desire, or been reminded of what it had felt like to kiss Heath, to have him touch me, but I had been conscious of that boundary. I knew it was hard enough to prevent myself from emotionally becoming too invested, and doing something that I would regret by crossing that line would destroy me in the end.

“I’m sorry.” He did look contrite.

It wasn’t enough. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was anger that I hadn’t done anything even though part of me had wanted to, but he still accused me so offhandedly. But I glared at him. “You should be.” I grabbed my coat. “I don’t appreciate you calling me a slut.”

“I didn’t call you a slut! Caitlyn!”

“You didn’t say the word, but that’s what that means. You thought I was capable of that and I have to tell you that really bothers me.”

Ethan looked desperate and worried. “Everything about him makes me crazy. I can see what he means to you and it makes me insane. I do and say things that I know I shouldn’t.”

Brushing past him, I yanked open the door. “Well, the minute I get back, that shit stops, do you understand me? Cutting him out of my life means you have no right to be jealous or suspicious or run off and get drunk and flirt with girls. You’ve got to trust me or this isn’t going to work.”

“Okay. Okay. I promise.”

I didn’t respond. I just jogged down the hall, feeling frantic and out of breath, my skin tingling under my clothes. Once I threw open the front door to the house, I texted Heath with shaking fingers.

Can I come over?

Right now?

Yes.

Of course. You okay?

Yes.

That was a lie. I had never lied to Heath. With him, every thought, every emotion had been laid bare for him to see, and I’d been holding back from him, but I couldn’t anymore.

No. I need to talk to you.

Sure, baby. I’m always here for you.

But he hadn’t been, had he?

I needed to remember that. I needed to remind myself that’s why I had to choose Ethan. Why I had to stay with him, and a future. My relationship with Heath might have been nothing more than teen first love. I couldn’t count on him to stick by me through the tough stuff. Through life.

Are you at home?

Yes. Do you want me to pick you up?

No. Be there in five.

I wanted to walk, wanted to hear my feet smacking on the sidewalk. Wanted to feel the sting of the crisp fall air. Winter was coming up on us fast. The sky was gray, the hint of snow in the clouds. My nose ran and my eyes watered as I hiked across campus to Heath’s studio apartment. I cut across The Mall, past the Student Union, ignoring the group of guys playing a pick up game of football. It was windy, and my hair whipped across my face as I tromped past the red brick buildings of campus to where off campus housing began.

Heath lived in an old rundown house that had been broken up into multiple apartments. Knocking hard on his door, I bounced on the balls of my feet, feeling wild and out of control. The second he pulled the door open, studying me, just a hint of a smile on his face, I pushed past him and blurted out, “Ethan found out.”

His eyebrows rose. “Found out what?” He slowly closed the door, not looking particularly concerned.

“He read our texts.”

“Is that what’s wrong?”

“Yes!” Wasn’t that enough?

He smiled though, a full, real smile. “Poor guy.”

But he couldn’t contain his glee. He tried to sound blasé, yet the grin gave it away.

“You don’t even care. We had a huge fight.”

“You’re right. I don’t care.”

I gasped.

“I care about you, Cat. I don’t give a shit about him.”

“So you’re glad that I’m upset?”

“No. I’m glad he knows that we talk. That I’m a threat.”

“A threat? What kind of a word is that?” Momentarily distracted, I asked him the question I had been afraid to ask before. I hadn’t wanted to pry about our years apart, but now I was curious because he sounded so… militant. “What was it like, being in Afghanistan?”

The smile dimmed. “You want war stories? Right now?” he asked incredulously.

“Did you see bad things?” That sounded ridiculously naïve but I didn’t want to come right out and ask him if he had killed people. Or seen bodies. Which of course he had if he had been in combat. He’d seen death before I’d even known him. His mother had overdosed in front of him, though he hadn’t understood that at three years old. Just that she was sleeping for two days before anyone found them.

But I wanted to know what he had been through, because I might never see him again. The thought made my throat close up.

“Baby, why are you asking me that?” He took my hand in his, studying me carefully. “Yes. I saw bad things. It was mostly boring and lonely, but there were definitely rough days. Why do you want to talk about that right now?”

“Because…” I swallowed hard, my eyes filling with tears. “Because I can’t see you anymore. Ethan found the texts and he’s upset and he says I have to delete your number and never see you again.”

I expected him to explode immediately. But he had more control than I did. “And is that what you want?” he asked carefully.

“No!” The word came out like a hysterical gurgle. “That’s not what I want at all. But what am I supposed to do?” I knew Ethan would leave me if I continued to see Heath. I couldn’t blame him for that. If I were in that position I would do the same thing.

“Whatever you want. You’re not supposed to just blindly follow some guy’s orders. You make your own decisions.”

“I have to do this.” But even as I said it, I looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“I can’t accept that.”

His fingers were stroking down my ring finger, up and down, coming close to my engagement ring but not touching it. It felt sexual. It felt intimate. Arousing. Heat pooled between my thighs unexpectedly. I didn’t want to look at him, so I looked down at our hands, at his callused fingers coming to a rest on my ring and twisting it, lifting it slightly.

As if he lifted my chin himself, my head rose, and my eyes met his. I couldn’t resist. My chest heaved rapidly and I felt every hair on my arms stand on end.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice seductive, tantalizing, coaxing.

He wanted to take my ring off. He wanted to remove the ring. Remove Ethan, at least metaphorically. If I let him, he would have me down on this carpet and naked in a matter of minutes, giving in to him, giving in to the past. Ignoring the future. Giving up everything for the breathless pleasure of him loving me.

My mouth opened. I almost said yes.

But if I let him take that ring off and set it down on the table, I would still be cheating. I would still have to go back and face Ethan having done exactly what he had feared I would. Proving him right. I had to be stronger than that. If my relationship was going to end, it wasn’t going to be because I couldn’t control myself.

“No,” I whispered, my eyes drifting closed. I didn’t want to see his disappointment. I didn’t want to be the source of pain.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His lips were close to my ear, his body brushing mine.

I was trembling everywhere and I was afraid of what I would see. His eyes. His mouth. I ached with the desire to feel his lips on mine because I knew this time it really was goodbye. I couldn’t hold on to both of them.

Steeling myself, I opened my eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “I’m not angry.” His thumb moved down my cheek in a soft caress. “I know this is hard for you. But your relationship with Ethan will end. It’s already started. And when it’s over, I’ll be here. I will always be here, in your life, whether you see me or not.”

He would. I knew that. And it tore me apart. It felt like I would never be free of him because he was inside me. A part of me.

Turning my head, I gave the back of his hand a shaky kiss. “I love you,” I whispered.

Then I took off. I ran out of the apartment. Out the front door. Down the street. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs strained. I cried as I ran, snot running down onto my upper lip. I didn’t bother to wipe it. I ran until I reached the sorority house and I hid my face with my arm as I went up the stairs. I felt eyes on me, but no one said anything.

Ethan was in my unlocked room, sitting on my bed, playing with his phone. He looked up in alarm as I burst in. “Caitlyn? What happened?” He sounded unsure, vulnerable, yet even so, he sat up and opened his arms for me.

I fell into his embrace, sobbing the kind of wet, heaving cries that made you incoherent. That made your face splotchy and your cheeks itch and your sinuses throb. An ugly cry.

He didn’t ask for details. He didn’t press me. He just led me to bed, and pulled me down into his arms. I clung to him, to his solidness, to his kindness. He stroked my hair and held me. He murmured shushing sounds in my ear, and he wiped my tears, my snotty nose, with his sleeve.

Eventually my crying slowed down, my body relaxed under his touch, my breathing became even. And exhausted from emotion, my sobs wracking me, I fell asleep with my leg thrown over his and my head on his shoulder.

When I woke up the next morning, my face was swollen and hurt. I had a headache and my mouth was dry. My whole body felt stiff and tense. I realized someone knocking on my door was what had woken me up. Shifting in Ethan’s arms, I sighed. “Oh, my God, what time is it?”